


Blackest Night, Darkest Days

by NekoMida



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arousal From Killing, Aroused Victim, Gang Rape, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Non-Canonical Character Death, Passed around like a party favor, Public Humiliation, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26850754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoMida/pseuds/NekoMida
Summary: There are things worse than death.
Relationships: Severus Snape/Other(s), Severus Snape/Voldemort
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31
Collections: Writing Rainbow Black





	Blackest Night, Darkest Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notearchiver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notearchiver/gifts).



Dead eyes stared up all around him, with Severus Snape looking down at his coworkers, his students, his friends. He’d been caught, chained to one of the giant oaks in the forest, hidden away from any possible sight save the ones who came to rescue him. And there was the boy with Lily’s eyes, staring up at him just as dead as could be, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth just as the resplendent victor of the duel approached Snape.

“You see, Severus, there is nothing good that comes from the impure. And your punishment is far from over.” Voldemort let his wand drag down Severus’ cheek, the tip still warm enough to cause him to shiver in fear--and arousal. Death brought him arousal, but this, this was too much, even as something penetrated him from behind, claw-like fingers snagging his skin. Filth stuttered forth over his skin, another groan sounding as he was used for the pleasure of the other Death Eaters, the loyal ones who viewed him as less than the dirt beneath their slippers.

Voldemort had promised a fate worse than death for betrayal. Severus just didn’t understand what that had meant at the time--though he had questioned it--and here he was, mounted by the Dark Lord like a perverse sex toy, Bellatrix giggling at his misfortune. She’d have ripped him apart if she could, his only saving grace being the Dark Lord himself.

Pain shot through his limbs, twisted against natural limits as Severus was dragged from his pedestal towards the ruins of Hogwarts, a block already set up to hold him with. At least he still had his robes, though the jeers of the other Death Eaters at his arousal from the death around them made him shudder.

It was only later, when Voldemort was buried inside of him, murdering yet another student of his, that he felt the connection there--the Dark Lord got aroused from the act of killing. Severus had left his mind elsewhere, and simply was erect, another toy for the public use of the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord’s followers; there would be no more Lily, no more Harry, no more anyone.

And it would remain that way always, always.


End file.
